An Artist's Mistakes
by MarcoLover16
Summary: It's back after years! Focuses on Bella and her parents with Bella as a young child, going through separation, divorce, and other problems. Prequel/companion to Real Life. Read to get a better picture? : .
1. Old Faces

Author's Note: I write Harry Potter. That, I believe, is where my strength lies. I decided to start reading Twilight very recently, and I obviously loved it. :) I won't voice my complaints about Meyer's grammar here… It would be completely annoying. I'm obsessive. Okay, so this is my first Twilight story. I'm assuming you figured that out already. I want to let you know now that it's very…different than most of what I've seen on here. I haven't seen any other story that begins when Bella is only four years old. The first part of the chapter (before Renée comes home) may be a little odd, but please give it a chance. Anyway, I am going to be busy this summer. I won't lie. I have a whole bunch of Harry Potter stories that are on hold right now because I'm working on doing well on finals and Regents exams. Also, I'm working on my own novel. I will also be away for most of July, but that's what a laptop is good for, right? Lastly, my own laptop has a virus, so I'm stuck using my mom's one that I believe she got from work until it's finally back in its rightful place. It makes it difficult to update, especially since I'm in the center of a lot of loud things. (Brooothers) I will do my best to update this as quickly as possible. So, if you want to give my story a try, I'll stop this annoying note. Please review. Enjoy. :)

"How about a sun?" Lena Lafontaine asked her granddaughter wearily.

It had been quite an exhausting day, which wasn't entirely surprising when one watched over Bella Swan. Bella was a difficult girl to keep track of. If Lena decided to pour herself a glass of juice, she would turn around to find Bella at the front door, trying to escape.

In fact, in the amount of time it took Lena to blink, Bella could run off to put herself in a dangerous situation.

Which she did.

All the time.

_Lena was ecstatic when Bella decided she wanted to go to the color room. Legend had it the color room was the safest room in the death trap Renée called a house. Lena would be able to watch Bella carefully without having to get up, and Bella would quietly color. Well…according to Renée anyway. The room had only been finished for about a week, so Lena had never been in it._

_She was surprised, to say the least—the very least._

_Bella smiled beatifically up at her grandmother after she had thrown open the door. _

"_Isn't it pretty?"_

_Lena was speechless. "I…" _

_This was how Renée got her kicks? She defiled her walls? She enjoyed making people sick when they entered the room? It looked as if Bella had somehow managed to steal her mother's precious paint cans and empty them by splattering the floor and walls._

_Bella looked at Lena, perplexed by her response. Obviously, she was supposed to like the room. She was supposed to think it was, as Bella said, _pretty.

_Lena gave her beloved granddaughter a fake smile. She barely tried to make it convincing; Bella was incredibly gullible. _

_Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "It's very nice." _

_She was surprised she managed to get to get that much of a compliment out of her mouth._

_Lena loved her daughter very much, but she didn't care much for her taste. _

"_Come on," said Bella, pulling her grandmother over to the dark wooden table in the center of the capacious room. _

"_Sit," she ordered._

_Lena did as she was told. _

_Bella sat down in the little blue chair across from Lena's little orange one. She grabbed a folder from the end of the table and pulled out a piece of blank paper from it._

_Lena asked Bella if she was supposed to be opening the folder, but Bella showed her the back of it. It read __**BELLA **__in bright green letters._

"_It's mine," she explained._

_That was when the trouble started. _

_Lena had been perfectly content with the idea of watching her granddaughter safely color, so she was surprised when she found herself worrying about the pictures she drew._

"Okay," said Bella. "Sun. Sun. Sun. Suuuun," she sang as she drew.

Lena closed her eyes, trying to erase the other pictures that Bella had drawn from her memory. She had always deemed the process of analyzing pictures ridiculous, but she could not deny that there was a strange pattern to Bella's drawings.

The first picture was of Renée. At first, that seemed perfectly normal. Kids liked to draw their parents. Lena only became disturbed when she realized that Renée was on fire. Bella was no artist, but it was very easy to understand what the orange and yellow flames were representing.

When Lena asked her about it, Bella shrugged. "Mommy likes hot."

Lena said that, yes, Renée did like the heat, but she probably didn't want to be burned to death.

Bella shrugged again, not looking up from her paper. "It's a pickcha, Gamma."

The rest were just as bad: Renée's friends getting sick, Lena bleeding, Lena's pet rabbit under the ground, and a man that seemed to be running off the page. After the answer she had gotten to her question about the fire, Lena hadn't asked what the others meant or who the man was. She simply suggested that Bella draw happier pictures.

"Done!"

Lena opened her eyes and suppressed a groan. Though it was against her better judgment, Lena just couldn't resist asking questions.

"Bella, why is the sun running away?"

Lena had been a pre-school teacher when she was younger, so she had seen enough pictures to know that when there were a bunch of arrows and footsteps (even if the object in question did not have feet), it meant the object was running away.

Bella gave me an exasperated look and rolled her eyes. "Gamma, the sun has been up there a long time."

"Yes…" Lena said slowly.

"It got bored."

"The sun doesn't get bored."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Ask him."

Lena decided to just give up.

Coloring seemed to calm Bella down completely. She sat down in her chair, perfectly content, focusing only on the paper she was using for her art.

Just when Lena began to relax and drink her tea, Bella stopped coloring. She set her red crayon down carefully.

"Gamma?" she said softly.

"Yes?" Lena asked warily. Bella looked nervous.

"What time is it?"

"Six."

Bella now looked close to tears. "Mommy…5:30."

Lena reached out to touch Bella's hand, shocked. "Honey, she'll be home soon."

Bella shook her head. "Where _is _she?

"Bella—"

"No!" she shrieked.

Lena had never heard her granddaughter raise her voice; she was always so quiet and sweet.

"I—I." Bella closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.

Lena thanked God forty times in her head when she heard the front door open and close. Bella jumped up and ran out of the room to greet her mother. Lena followed at a much slower pace. She was not looking forward to the talk she would have to have with Renée.

Renée was taking her off her high heels by the door when Lena and Bella got to her. Renée smiled, lifting her daughter up into her arms. Bella buried her face into her neck.

"Thanks so much, Mom," said Renée. "Did she have dinner?"

Lena shook her head slowly.

"Let's go whip something up, Bella," she said, already pushing open the curtain to the kitchen. "Do you want to stay for dinner, Mom?"

Lena solemnly followed the sound of Renée's voice.

"No," said Bella, giggling. "She don't wanna."

"Bella's not a fan of my experiments," Renée explained.

Lena ignored their comments. Trying to be as gentle as possible, she said, "May I have a word with you in the other room?"

Renée knew it was a rhetorical question. She was supposed to agree to talk with her. Still, she mulled it over in her head, anticipating an argument. Lena gave her a stern look.

"Fine," she said. She grabbed a juice box from the refrigerator and placed it in front of Bella. "We'll be back in a minute, honey."

Bella nodded, concentrating on popping her straw out of its wrapper.

Lena did not wait a mere second before she launched her attack. "What is wrong with you?"

"Umm…" Renée cocked her head to one side. "I can't sing. I'm not sure if that's the particular problem you were looking for, but it's—"

"Be serious," Lena demanded. "Are you aware that you have no food at the moment?"

"I have food."

"You have pancake mix, macaroni and cheese, juice boxes, and peanut butter," said Lena incredulously. "And…you're both allergic to peanut butter. Why is that here?"

"I am going to go shopping," said Renée, ignoring the question.

"Do you see the pictures your daughter draws? She is obviously disturbed."

"E_xcuse _me?"

Lena rubbed her temples. "That came out wrong. Let's…sit down." She gestured toward the couch.

Renée followed her mother to the couch, sighing.

Lena took a minute to observe her. Her brown curly hair was perfect, as usual, but that was about the only positive thing to be said about her appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes, likely brought on by sleep deprivation. She looked weak, skinny, and insecure.

It was almost impossible to see the beautiful woman underneath all of that.

Lena put her hand on Renée's shoulder, trying to be patient. "I just…you know how I feel. I don't think she is happy, Renée."

Renée scowled darkly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've discovered this by looking at her pictures?"

"You're the one who said that art is an expression of unspoken feelings," said Lena, hoping Renée would see reason.

"Yes," said Renée, struggling to keep herself from shouting. "I want her to be able to express herself."

"But, in these pictures—"

"I'm on fire. I know. Are you afraid that means she's going to throw some gasoline over my head and light a match?"

"That's not funny," said Lena, not pleased with the indifference Renée was displaying.

Renée stood up. "I will not tell her she cannot draw what she wants to draw."

Lena opened her mouth to make a suggestion, but she stopped when she realized Renée was crying. She raised her eyebrows in alarm and got up to hug Renée to her chest.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" Lena asked gently.

"It's all my fault," Renée choked out between sobs.

"The pictures? Oh, it's not—"

"Mother, would you forget about the damn pictures? I'm talking about the Brian thing."

Lena stiffened. She rubbed Renée's back, refusing to reply until the crying stopped. Eventually, the tears stopped, but the tremors continued.

"She is terrified of abandonment," said Lena, speaking gently, trying not to further upset Renée.

"What, are you a therapist now?" Renée asked viciously.

"She needs help."

"No," said Renée stubbornly, pulling away from Lena.

"_You _need to fix yourself," Lena continued.

"I'm fine."

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have this house!"

The immediate change in the air was visible in Renée's beautiful blue eyes. She was no longer distressed and full of regret; she was furious. She stormed into the kitchen, rolling her eyes when she went through the curtain. The curtain that she had put up to make the house even more unique was now preventing her from doing what she really wanted to do: slam a damn door.

Renée knew her mother was right behind her, eager to continue their discussion. She tried her best to ignore that.

Bella smiled up at them. It was clear to her—an innocent _four-_year-old—that, even though she heard some of the conversation, she was not supposed to repeat anything.

"Okay, let's see the purple tongue!" said Renée.

Bella gladly stuck her tongue out.

"Hmm…" said Renée, pondering. "I'd give it an eight. Keep working on it."

Bella nodded, delighted. "'Nother!"

Lena arched a confused eyebrow as she watched Renée hand Bella another grape juice box. Renée didn't look at her. She stared at the tabletop. "We try to beat each other. Later, after a few more juice boxes, we'll look in the mirror to see who has the more purple tongue."

"That's ridiculous," said Lena.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Renée sat down next to Bella, smiling weakly. "As soon as _gamma _leaves, we'll make some pancakes."

"Crazy panpakes?" Bella asked.

Renée nodded, running her fingers through Bella's thick hair.

Lena watched the two of them from the doorway—also known as the curtainway—with mixed feelings. She was so glad that Renée and Bella had such a good relationship, and she knew that Renée cared very much about the little girl. However, Lena was not always so happy with the decisions she made. The house was a death trap! Bella was covered in band-aids and bruises. Lena was afraid that if people got curious, they would try to take Bella away. If anyone asked, Lena would certainly say that Renée was a wonderful mother, but…

Well, Lena wasn't always so sure that was true.

Renée had never gone to college. Her dream had always been art. As long as she had the supplies for that, she was satisfied. What would she ever need college before? Her husband went to college. She had a home with him. She had money with him.

Unfortunately, while the home and the money were both still there, Renée was not.

Lena had never been able to pry the reasons for her departure out of her. Renée got up one day, took Bella, left almost all of her stuff behind, and no one, not even Lena, heard from her for three days. Lena had no idea where she had stayed. After she had gotten the call, she told all of Renée's friends where she had gone.

But when she called Charlie, he said he didn't want to know. He asked if she was safe, and Lena told him that she was. He said that was all he needed to know.

"_If you tell me where she is, I won't be able to resist the urge to run after her. If she didn't tell me where she was going, she obviously doesn't want me to follow."_

And that was it. The end of Charlie and Renée. Lena was fine with that. If they didn't want to be with each other—or if Renée didn't want to be with him—they shouldn't have to be. Only two things bothered Lena.

One: They were still married, even if only technically.

Two: Bella had not seen her father since Renée moved out.

She could not support Bella easily without a college degree. Lena moved to Phoenix to be with her and help. After all, what was keeping her in Forks? Her husband was dead, and her daughter was too many miles away. Lena was quite wealthy. She figured she would find a nice home for the three of them to live in. She didn't realize that was against her daughter's wishes.

Renée wanted to feel independent. Lena respected that. Was it wrong to feel grateful for the money one inherited after many deaths in the family? That was what got them in such a good position.

Art was certainly not enough to keep the roof over their heads. Lena chipped in, and Renée worked as a secretary in a High School. It wasn't her dream job, but she was taking some college classes to help her get _somewhere. _Lena wished Renée's had been blessed with something other than a talent for art.

"I'd like to continue our conversation in the other room," said Lena.

Renée finally looked at her. "Why? You don't want Bella to hear your insults?"

Lena sighed. "I don't want to insult you."

Renée rolled her eyes. Clearly, the comment about the house had cut her deeply. "Well, if you do it by accident, it's dangerous to talk to you."

"Renée," Lena said warningly.

"We'll talk right here, mother."

If that was the way she wanted it, that was the way she would get it. "You need to deal with Charlie."

"Ow!"

Renée's fingers were still running through Bella's hair when Lena shocked her. She dropped her hands to her lap, forgetting about the knots. She ripped her fingers through the tangles in her hair.

"I'm sorry, Bella," said Renée, staring anxiously at Lena. "What do you mean I have to 'deal' with him?"

Lena glanced at Bella. She was holding onto the ends of her hair tearfully.

"I would really like to discuss this somewhere else."

Renée did not look like she was going to move.

Lena sighed. "Renée, I don't want to be harsh, but you have to hear this. You need to grow up. Stop avoiding your problems. Talk to him."

"No," said Renée immediately.

"Renée-"

"I am so grateful that you watch Bella for me. I love you. I do not deserve you," said Renée. "I will do anything else you may ask, but I will _not _do this."

Lena, who had been so hesitant to talk in front of Bella, seemed to have forgotten Bella was even _there. _

"I am not asking you to move back there. I am not asking you to give up anything. Just go talk to him. End this."

"It's over," said Renée. "Just because I am not _with _him—"

"Who?" said Bella.

She was ignored.

"What if you want to get remarried someday? Technically, you are still married."

Renée snorted. "I am not getting married again."

"Who?" Bella repeated, louder this time.

"Bella needs to know her own father!" said Lena.

Renée's eyes were burning with a passionate anger. "She has me," she whispered murderously. "Don't tell me what else she needs."

"Who?" Bella asked again, slamming her fists on the table.

Renée finally looked at her. "No one important," she said. She turned to Lena. "I will walk you to the door now. Bella will want her pancakes soon."

"Crazy panpakes!" Bella reminded her.

"Of course," said Renée, giving her a half smile.

Neither one of them spoke a word until they arrived at the front door. Renée looked at her expectantly.

Lena smiled sadly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I did not want that conversation to happen the way it did," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Renée shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

"However, I did mean what I said. You need to close this Charlie situation. Rekindle the old flame…end it. I don't care. Just do _something _to give the both of you some closure."

Renée's anger had faded. She sighed hopelessly. "I can't see him again."

Lena did not remove her hand from Renée's shoulder.

"Think of your father," she said. "Think of how much he meant to you. What would your life have been like if he never existed?"

Renée said nothing.

"Give your daughter the chance to be the daddy's girl you were if she…wants to be."

"I can't see him again," she repeated.

"Do this for Bella. Please, Renée," Lena begged.

Renée's voice was barely above a whisper. "No matter what his reaction is, it will hurt me. If he welcomes me with open arms, it will hurt me." She was starting to tear up again, but she was desperately fighting the urge to cry. "If he tells me to get out of his face, it will hurt me. If he forgives me, it will hurt me. If he doesn't forgive me…"

"Renée," Lena said softly.

"I know I deserve it, but…"

"Just remember how much _you_ hurt _him_. You can't avoid this forever. It is not fair to him at _all._"

Renée bit her lip.

"I know you will do the right thing," said Lena. "Same time tomorrow?"

Renée nodded silently, opening the door for her mother. Lena stepped out without another word.

Renée closed the door slowly behind her, slid down to the floor, held her head in her hands, and cried. She tried to be as quiet as possible about it, but Bella still came to her.

Renée looked up at her daughter pathetically, not bothering to try to come up with a lie. Bella rushed over to her mother's side, resting her head on her shoulder.

"What?" Bella asked, furrowing her brows.

"It's okay, baby," she said.

"No. Well, I…I understand that, but I can't come back at…yes. Yes, my plane has already arrived."

Bella held onto her mother's hand, patiently waiting for her to be done with her phone call.

Renée put the phone to her shoulder and whispered, "Can you see if there's another quarter in my purse?"

Bella took the purse out of her mother's suitcase.

"I know, but I am on a payphone. I am _not _home. I—yes, you did tell me that. I don't believe that's any of your business."

Bella reached up to hand her mother a quarter she had found. Renée took it from her, mouthing _thank you._

"I informed her. That doesn't mean I have to inform the world," said Renée, rolling her eyes. "Washington! Look, I don't feel like wasting another quarter, and this call will end soon. If you desperately need to call me—for a legitimate reason—call the number that I left with Mary."

"Yes. Of course. Bye."

Renee' sighed before she picked up the phone again.

"Mom? Hi. I'm not going to need you to come over next week... I'm in Washington. Yes. I know. No, he--he doesn't know."

Bella could hear her grandmother shout, _"YOU DIDNT CALL HIM?"_

_"_No. I--yes. Yes, I have a plan!"

"_What IS IT?"_

"Well," said Renee', looking uncomfortable. "I'm going to go to his house, and then I'll take it from there."

Bella could no longer hear shouting.

"Yes, Mom. Yes. I need to go now. Bye."

Renée hung up the phone, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and then offered her other hand to Bella. Bella grabbed it tightly.

"Take your suitcase."

Bella did as she was told.

When Renée stepped out onto the sidewalk, she felt her stomach lurch. Washington. She was in Washington.

"Are we going to walk to Force?" Bella asked, looking curiously up at Renée.

"Forks," said Renée absentmindedly. "No."

"How—"

"This is an airport. Shouldn't there be more taxis around?"

Bella assumed she was talking to her. "Umm…"

"Of course not. I forgot I'm visiting Hell. Silly me."

Bella groaned.

When the first taxi arrived, Renée rushed to the door, shoving people out of her way. After the luggage was in, she ran back for her daughter. She was not going to make her stay in Washington any longer than it absolutely had to be.

"The line is still there."

Bella had given up on trying to understand her mother's babbling.

Renée was staring at the garage door with a mixture of happiness, sadness, and anger in her eyes.

"I did it when I lived here," she explained. "I wanted to paint the garage half purple and half yellow. Charlie thought I was absolutely insane, and he wanted it to stay grey. While I was painting the purple, I said to myself, 'Wouldn't it be great if I painted lines of yellow across the purple, instead?'"

Bella looked down at her shoes, finding them more interesting than she found the story.

"He hated it. He always joked around, saying that he would repaint it one day when I was out shopping or something," she said, laughing. "But…it's still there."

"So?"

Renée sighed. "So, he's an idiot. He should have torn down the whole garage the moment he'd realized I had left him."

"Oh," said Bella, her eyes widening.

Renée took a deep breath. "On the count of three," she said to herself. "One, two, three!"

She reached her finger out to ring the doorbell, but she pulled it back.

"I can't," she said. "You do it."

Bella was willing to do anything to get out of the cold weather, so she walked over to the doorbell. Just as she was about to push the button, Renée pulled her hand away.

"Do you hear that? He's talking."

Bella shivered. "Mommy!"

Renée didn't seem to notice the cold air around them. "Is someone in there with him? Does he have a girlfriend or something?"

Bella had a pretty good feeling that they weren't going inside for a while.

"No," she said thoughtfully. "He's on the phone."

Renée closed her eyes. "Push it, Bells."

The door opened quickly, almost as if the man of the house had been expecting company. He was, indeed, on the phone.

It took him a moment to realize who was standing there on his doorstep. Once his eyes widened in realization, the phone fell to the floor.

Author's Note: If you read until the end, thank you. Please review. :) I've got some tricks up my sleeve for this story, so I hope some people want to keep reading.


	2. Can of Worms

Author's Note: Finally, right? This chapter may not be particularly thrilling, but I'm just so grateful for the chance to _compose_ it! I want to update as much as I can (whether for one story or for many of them) during this break from school because when I go back to school…things are probably going to be busy. Please bear with me. I have so many ideas, but I don't always get a good long break to write them down. _Please _stay with me and _please _review.

Renée stared at Charlie. Charlie stared at Bella. Bella stared at the phone that lay on the ground.

Bella was the first to move her eyes. She looked up at Charlie.

"Your phone is on the ground," she said simply.

Charlie didn't seem to hear Bella. He crouched down, so his face would be closer to hers, and he looked into her big brown eyes, so sure that he was hallucinating. Could she really be his daughter? The girl in front of him was walking and talking, and the last time Charlie had seen Isabella, she was sleeping in a crib and wearing diapers.

Charlie reached out hesitantly to touch her face, but Bella covered her face with one hand.

Charlie blinked. He stood up and finally looked at Renée.

"She doesn't like to be touched," said Renée.

"Oh."

Bella sighed, giving up on trying to understand the behavior of the two adults in front of her. She picked up the phone and the battery that had fallen out, and she offered both pieces to Charlie. He took them wordlessly.

"Well…" said Charlie, clearing his throat. "I sort of have someone coming over."

"Oh," said Renée.

"Soo…"

"Yeah. I guess we should go."

Charlie raised a confused eyebrow. "You just got here."

"Right," she said, blinking furiously. "Then, I guess I should stay…or we could drive around for a bit." She shook her head. "We don't have a car."

Charlie shook his head. "It's just that…"

"What?" Renée asked immediately.

"Well, he's going to need to come through the door, and we're all—"

"—standing by the door," Renée finished.

Charlie nodded, taking a deep breath. "I guess I'm asking you to come in."

"I suppose that's a good idea," said Renée, pushing her dark hair behind her ears.

Renée scooped Bella into her arms and followed Charlie into the house. Her eyes widened.

What was wrong with Charlie? Did he have some serious emotional disorder? He was supposed to change everything. He was supposed to throw the picture frames at the wall, symbolically breaking the bond that the two of them shared—once shared. He was supposed to take away anything that even slightly reminded him of Renée.

It wasn't supposed to look the same.

"The place looks good." It was, after all, Renée's creation.

Charlie nodded absently. "Why mess with perfection?"

Bella struggled in her mother's arms. "Oh," said Renée, her eyes still on Charlie. "Right." She let her down.

The tension, already thicker than imaginable, was increased by Bella's presence. What could Renée say in front of Bella?

Apparently, Charlie was way ahead of Renée.

"Would you like to see your room, Bella?"

She had a room here. There was no doubt in Renée's mind that he hadn't changed it one bit, hoping that Bella would be back in it shortly after she left it.

Bella glanced up at Renée, who nodded, and then smiled shyly. "Okay," she said softly.

"Just tell her where to go," said Renée, giving Charlie a look that clearly said, _"Trust me." _

Bella took Charlie's directions carefully and slowly, concentrating on every step, walked up the stairs to her bedroom.

"She likes to feel independent," Renée explained, now that Bella was gone. "She doesn't like you to take her somewhere; she takes herself."

Charlie wasn't paying attention. He took a deep breath and pointed to the couch. "Have a seat," he said.

Renée sat down, bracing herself.

Charlie took the phone and the battery, both still in his hands, and put them back together. He put the phone in its charger and came back to the living room.

"I guess you should tell me why you're here," Charlie said calmly.

Renée seemed at a loss for words. "It's my house."

The calm and quiet approach that Charlie had taken quickly stopped. "You seemed to forget about that," he said.

Renée shook her head. Though she knew she deserved it, Charlie's harsh tone shocked her.

"I forgot a lot of things."

"You certainly did. Like to tell me where you went."

"California," Renée said, mainly out of habit. "My mother came with me there as a live-in babysitter."

Charlie smiled, but it didn't comfort Renée. In fact, this strange, twisted smile made her reconsider everything she'd been planning on saying.

"That's nice."

When she could no longer look at him, Renée moved her eyes to the top of the stairs. She watched Bella curiously explore the second floor, moving from her own room, to the bathroom, to the master bedroom and stopping there. She seemed particularly interested in that room.

"Renée," said Charlie, grabbing her attention again. He sat down on an armchair next to the couch. "Why are you here, Renée?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Renée said quietly. "I just—I wanted to talk to you about…"

Suddenly, asking for a divorce didn't seem appropriate.

"I thought you might want to see Bella."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "I did want to see Bella. That's why you got on a plane?"

"I—"

"I think it's very unlikely," he interrupted, "that you came here for my benefit."

"Bella needed to know her father," said Renée firmly. "That's why we're here."

When Charlie could no longer look at her, he turned his eyes to where hers had been. Upstairs.

Bella was no longer visible to them, but she was making a good amount of noise. It seemed that every time she took a step, she bumped into another piece of furniture. Charlie was beginning to wonder if she were doing it on purpose.

"Are you still painting?" Charlie asked Renée, keeping his eyes on the second floor.

"Uh." Renée was caught off guard. "Yes. I still paint."

"Good," said Charlie.

"Good," she repeated.

Charlie suddenly turned his eyes back to Renée. "We have no food," he said. "Well, unless you and Bella want to eat fish, peanut butter, and tomatoes. I should get food."

The abrupt change in mood and conversation forced Renée to laugh. "We don't have to eat here."

"You'll eat here."

This new plan brought with it many uncomfortable choices. If Charlie left to get food, Renée and Bella would be left alone in the house. Charlie certainly wasn't afraid to leave them there. If Renée had wanted to rob him of his possessions (the few that he had), she would have done it already. She'd had years to simply unlock the door with her key. But Renée still felt, both to Charlie and to herself, like a guest.

"Bella and I could just—we could just pick something up on our way to a hotel. I may not have a car, but I did bring money," said Renée, still walking on eggshells.

But Charlie shook his head. "That's ridiculous. I need food anyway. We're all human here."

"I feel as if I'm sending you out as a servant," said Renée.

"It's all right," said Charlie.

"How about we go together?" Renée suggested. "I'll pay."

Charlie sighed. "Let me make a quick call first. I don't want my guest to think he was forgotten."

Shopping with Charlie and Bella hadn't been the best idea for Renée. Perhaps Charlie had been trying to protect her from what inevitably happens in small towns. Recognition. Even those who didn't recognize Renée—it wasn't a big group of people—came over to see Charlie Swan's mysterious lady friend. Once they saw the child, however, their questions were answered.

No one spoke a word to Renée. Not even her former friends. But she didn't worry about that. Her concern for Bella was above all else. Her daughter was so confused.

Had she been here before? Why was everyone staring? Was she supposed to be familiar with the man she'd never seen? Why was her mother getting dirty looks? Why was she _here?_

Bella was obviously very uncomfortable. She was so accustomed to having people fuss over her beautiful eyes and play lovingly with her hair, so this awkward—this almost rude attitude she received from the Forks residents was very perplexing.

Charlie did his best to ignore the stares.

"Will she eat soup?" Charlie asked, listing some of his favorite easily prepared foods. "Or…waffles?"

Bella clapped in her mother's arms.

Renée laughed and placed Bella on the ground beside her "Buy whatever you want, Charlie," she said. "That's what I'll do! I'll cook."

Charlie raised an eyebrow cautiously. "What kind of cooking?"

"It'll be fantastic," she said. "I will make a feast _and _pay for everything. It's the least I can do."

"You don't ha—"

"Half," Renée interrupted quickly, knowing that Charlie would never allow her to take full responsibility. "I'll pay for half."

It was clear in Charlie's eyes that he still felt uncomfortable accepting the offer, but he sighed. "All right."

Renée smiled and began filling the cart with all her favorites.

Charlie crouched down in front of Bella. "Has her cooking improved since the last meal she made me?" he asked quietly.

Laughing, Bella shrugged.

"Do you have something edible once—" Charlie watched Bella's forehead crease in confusion. "Do you eat every day?"

"Yes," she said, nodding quickly.

"You're hilarious," said Renée, rolling her eyes. "I need butter." She hurried off in another direction to find some.

Charlie had often thought about Renée returning to Forks. He wondered what excuses she would give, how she would try to make up for it. She believed that just about anything could be fixed with a bandage. Once the uncomfortable formal aura disappeared, she thought that her plan had worked.

But Charlie knew the wound had only been covered. And once the memories came out in the open…

Once she told him why she came back…

Charlie was not going to think about that. He would hold in all of his emotions until she ripped them out.

Isabella and Renée were going to be staying in Charlie's house. The decision had been made shortly after dinner, but Renée had never intended on leaving. She knew Charlie would offer and, even though she wasn't thrilled with the idea of staying in her old house, she knew that it made more sense to stay with him. Free food, free living space, Bella's own bedroom, a bedroom, and a couch.

Being the gentlemen that he was, Charlie offered Renée the bedroom. Unwilling to have the argument they needed to have, she accepted his offer graciously.

"Do you need anything?" Charlie asked from the master bedroom's doorway.

"No," said Renée, smiling slightly. "I have a feeling Bella will ask to sleep with me in less than an hour. Unfamiliar place, you know?"

"Right," said Charlie, staring past her. He considered asking her to sit with him for a while, getting some answers to the basic questions he had, but he shook his head. "I guess we'll talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she agreed.


	3. Reasons

Author's Note: Years later, I know. Life has changed. Things have changed. I am back. I hope I am back to stay, for all my stories. I hope I have and gain some faithful readers. And this story…it may seem to be taking a weird path, and eventually…in chapters ahead…it may seem I am going to a completely alternate universe. **Will this fit into Twilight universe? Yes. Are Bella's parents going to actually end up happily married forever and ever? Absolutely **_**not.**_** Don't worry. Trust me. ;). Enjoy.**

It was very strange to be back in Forks. It was a life Renée had sworn to abandon, to never ever return to. Renée never planned to subject her daughter to the terrible life of a small town girl. Though Renée had grown up in a small town herself just outside of Forks, she knew that was not who she was.

And Bella would not be that girl either.

Renée saw the looks she received when shopping with Charlie, and she knew what they meant. Renée was the slut who abandoned her loving husband. And nobody wanted to associate with that.

Perhaps they thought she was back to do more damage. And perhaps she would.

Renée could only hope that they would not hate Bella by association; her four-year-old deserved no ill feelings for simply being the daughter of a failure at marriage. Bella could never be rightfully blamed.

When Renée dragged herself out of bed—it had been strange to sleep in a bed that she knew Charlie slept in every night and had once shared with Renée—she knew Charlie would have already left for work. She was rather surprised that Bella had not joined her at all, even a tad worried that something bad had happened. Mother's anxiety.

But when Renée checked Bella's bedroom, she found her daughter fast asleep. In a bed. That had not been there the last time Renée entered the room years before. This was the first change Renée had noticed in the house.

Charlie had planned for Bella's return.

Renée bit her lip to hold back tears, not even sure that kind of tears they would be. She walked cautiously across the room and sat on the end of Bella's bed. She moved her hair out of the way and placed a soft kiss on Bella's forehead.

Bella blinked, awoken immediately. When she saw it was only her mother, she smiled. "Morning."

Renée laughed. "Morning, sweetie. How'd you sleep?"

"Good," Bella replied, sighing. "Comfy bed."

"I'm glad," said Renée. "Ready to get up?"

Bella sprung out of bed immediately.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Charlie had left a note on the kitchen table that he was at work, Bella and Renée were welcome to anything, they should make themselves at home, and he would be back around five.

Make themselves at home. An interesting concept for Renée, considering this had been her home. Or she had tried to make it that way.

The questions started around one. Bella deserved a medal for keeping them to herself for so long. When they were finally asked, Renée did not know how to answer.

"Mommy?" Bella asked, flipping quickly through channels with the remote control. They didn't have one at home. Bella was fascinated to be able to change the channels without going to the television itself. _Magic,_ she called it.

"What is it, honey?"

Bella continued to flip through the channels, despite the fact that she'd gone through each one more than once. "Why are we here?"

The question caught Renée off guard. "Because—because we're visiting Char—your—Charlie."

The father concept had not been properly explained to Bella. Renée was starting to see that perhaps this had been a mistake. One of many possible mistakes of Renée's.

Bella finally put down the remote. She turned to her mother on her right side, a confused look on her face. "But why?"

Renée tried to appear calm, a wreck of nerves on the inside. "W—why?"

Bella nodded, her forehead creasing. "Why?"

Renée sighed and pulled her daughter onto her lap. Bella immediately turned her face to look at Renée. Renée wished she wouldn't do that; it would make it easier to not have to stare into her child's angelic face.

With Charlie's eyes.

Full of confusion and innocence.

"Bella, honey, this is going to be _very _difficult to explain," she began, brushing Bella's cheek with her thumb. "You may not understand. And that's okay. It may take some time."

Bella continued to stare at her mother, waiting for more. Finally, she nodded.

"Charlie is a very special person in your life, Bella. I know you may not remember that, but…"

This was going to be terrible. If Bella had any idea what a father in general _was, _she could simply explain that Charlie was that man for Bella; he was her father. But how could a four-year-old who had barely any knowledge of the world, had never been to school, and had only known her mother and grandmother for years…possibly have this explained to her? Renée decided to go for simple. She would understand one day, right?

She could not explain the relationship between herself and Charlie. That was simply too mature.

"Bella, Charlie is your father, your dad…" It sounded extremely awkward and, quite frankly, stupid. What a stupid thing to say. "This means—"

Bella's eyes widened. "_Mine? My dad?" _she exclaimed, ecstatic.

Renée should have known Bella would surprise her. "Yes. Charlie is your dad."

"I did—I _have _one?"

Apparently, a father was an unexpected toy, one that she could not believe would be given to a girl like her.

The reaction pleased Renée, somewhat. Bella did not seem at all confused. For a girl whose only remembered human contact had been with a mother, grandmother, Renée's male "friends" and strangers, she seemed too knowledgeable on the father subject.

She was bouncing on Renée's lap. "In the books…In the stories…"

Of course. Bella would have known from her stories.

"Mommy _and _Daddy. I didn't…I—I didn't—"

"You didn't know you had one," said Renée, nodding. "Everyone has one, sweetheart."

"_Really?" _

Renée chuckled, but stopped when Bella glared back at her. "I know this is confusing for you, Bella. Don't worry."

"Why—why are we _visiting? _Why doesn't he…"

Renée knew what she was getting at. Why wasn't Charlie going to live with them? Why _didn't _he leave with them already?

"Doesn't he—he doesn't—"

"Charlie—your dad—loves you. Make no mistake about that one, darling."

Bella was still confused. Which was perfectly understandable.

"It'll be explained," said Renée. "You'll understand soon enough."

….

When Charlie came back home, Renée had dinner on the table. Bella turned her nose up. Bella was only partial to some of Renée's experiments including "crazy pancakes" and brownies in tomato sauce. But even Bella, with the stomach for some of her mother's ridiculous recipes, could not accept all of it.

She was not accepting lima bean and cherry pie.

Charlie's face was wary as he entered the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the pie in the middle of the table.

"You cooked." It was not a question.

Renée nodded. "Special recipe, you know me. Lima bean and cherry pie! Part dinner, part dessert."

Bella groaned and smacked her head onto the table. This seemed to amuse Charlie.

"Well, serve me up a plate there, Renée."

Renée's eyes widened. She served him a slice before he had the chance to change his mind.

….

Renée had been disgusted by her creation after a bite, threw her piece into the garbage, and stopped attempting to force it on Bella. She cursed her own stupidity. She saw then that the lima beans and cherries had not been a good combination, not good at all.

Charlie ate his entire piece while Renée stared in awe.

Charlie shrugged. "I liked it, Ray."

The simple use of the nickname drove knives through Renée's entire body. It was silly, really, to be so negatively affected by the nickname. It was what Charlie had _always _called her. Nothing new at all. Not to mention, it was pleasant, kind. Charlie was _being _pleasant and kind.

Was it guilt? Was that why it hurt to have Charlie so readily accept her into his household, so politely eat and compliment her disgusting dish? Was it guilt that made it sting to hear the nickname on his lips?

Or was it fear that perhaps…Renée did miss Charlie and the short life they'd had together?

A life that was over and could _not _return. Ever. It was done. She had put a fork in that relationship and called it done.

….

After Renée put Bella down for bed, she and Charlie finally had the ability to discuss the things that needed to be discussed, but Renée found herself unwilling to broach the topic. Instead, she asked questions, never letting Charlie have a chance to question her visit.

"And your friends on the reservation? How are they?"

Charlie shrugged, the humor in his eyes from the previous discussion disappeared and was replaced with pain. "Billy Black's got a third kid now."

"Oh! Really? Boy or girl?"

"Boy," he said brusquely. "Name's Jacob."

"Oh," said Renée slowly. The change in Charlie's manner was conspicuous. "How are they dealing with having three kids? I can't imagine."

"_They're_ not dealing with anything, Renée."

Renée's forehead wrinkled in confusion. Where did the attitude come from and what was he talking about?

"Billy is. Alone."

Renée's eyes widened. "She—she le—"

"No, she didn't leave," said Charlie. "She died. You missed that particular event."

For the first time in her twenty-three years, Renée was rendered speechless.

Charlie looked back at her with cold eyes. "What are you _doing_ here, Renée?"

Renée had been avoiding the topic for too long, she knew. She had been terrified to bring up her reasons for coming. Now not only was she going to have to discuss it, but it came after finding out her old friend had died while she was somewhere else in the world, lost to everyone but her family.

Like an uncaring bitch.

What could she say? That she came to Forks to divorce Charlie once and for all, to give him papers to sign and go on her merry way? His attitude had been welcoming and kind almost the entire visit. He had eaten her awful dinner without a complaint. He had called her by her nickname and given her his—their—_his_—bedroom.

But now that he was unhappy with her, would he still be kind? Would he have been kind with this topic even without the discussion of…?

She couldn't even think the words. Her friend had…had…gone.

Charlie sighed and closed his eyes. "Fine, Renée. Don't tell me."

Charlie then reached for the remote on the coffee table in front of them, closing the conversation. Renée grabbed his hand. He stopped and looked into her eyes.

Renée took a deep breath. "Charlie, I'm here because I missed you."

So, maybe that wasn't why she'd come. Maybe she'd come to close this chapter on her life, to please her mother, or both. Maybe she had expected to be in and out.

But maybe truthfully…missing Charlie was why she had stayed.

Author's Note: If you haven't read the top author's note, please do. :).


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